


Strictly Oblivious

by irorn



Category: Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Cute Stupidity, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 02:50:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7873261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irorn/pseuds/irorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Roommate drank your coffee again?” </p><p>“Roommate forgot to buy more coffee after he drank the last of it,” Zayn replied as he added another packet of sweetener into his cup. He gives it a test taste, and sighed pleased at the almost homey taste. “He’s a bit higher on my kill list today.” Zayn hears that familiar chuckle again, and like every other day tries to pair the voice and the face to one body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strictly Oblivious

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zarryisbae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zarryisbae/gifts).



**To Lou** : I hate you.

 

He waited momentarily for Louis to reply, but to no avail. Probably going back to sleep after Zayn was done glaring and passive aggressively yelling at him. He tucked his phone back into his pocket and resumed staring blankly outside at the passing city. Zayn felt mildly disgusted with the day already. So far he had been up since five without a drop of coffee and hasn’t killed anyone—yet. Which was good, except the lack of caffeine part. He swears, the next time he sees Louis he’s going to castrate and through the asshole down a well.

 

After ten more minutes of staring outside the window Zayn finally reached his stop and hopped off. He had to head in for an early shift at the office. He’d normally start his shifts an hour later, but apparently they were having new trainees there and wanted the _“experienced”_ workers to make an example. It was ridiculous.  Walking into the building, Zayn took the elevator up and tightened his tie as he made his way to the cubical. He heard the tapping of a pen before he was even ten feet of his desk. Setting his belongings down he sighed as he turned the laptop on.

 

“Hey work buddy,” his coworker, Harry says from the other side of Zayn’s cubical.

 

Like always, Zayn couldn’t see his face and just replied with a soft grunt. He hears a laugh in return and smiles to himself as he headed to the break room to get a coffee. As soon as he gets back to his swivel chair he starts off his work. The sooner he got done, the faster he could sneak a nap in.  

 

“Roommate drank your coffee again?”

 

“Roommate forgot to buy more coffee after he drank the last of it,” Zayn replied as he added another packet of sweetener into his cup. He gives it a test taste, and sighed pleased at the almost homey taste. “He’s a bit higher on my kill list today.” Zayn hears that familiar chuckle again, and like every other day tries to pair the voice and the face to one body.    

 

“How will you ever survive. You might as well go home right now, I recommend it. You’ve been through too much stress.”

 

Zayn crumpled a piece of paper and threw it over the top not really caring if he actually hit him or not. It’s a recurring thing between them. They joke around and make work more bearable, sometimes throw stuff over the top to annoy the other person, but they always miss actually meeting face to face. So much that it kind of became a game, to see how long they can go without seeing what the other looks like, even though it’s slowly killing Zayn. Zayn’s just surprised that they haven’t seen each other at meetings or anything. Truth be told, Zayn has mentally set an image of what Harry would look like. He already knows his voice sound like liquid sex, so of course the face has to match the voice. It’s a recurring thought, and Zayn refuses to see a problem with it.

 

They both got to work then and only shared small chatter as they both buried themselves in what they had to do. Zayn was in charge of designing the new headers and making the website and paper look presentable and saleable. Harry on the other hand was one of the many editors in the department. So to say they were busy was a giant understatement. Zayn only had looked up when he heard a pair of obnoxiously familiar heels.

 

Taylor. Taylor and her loud heels made their way to Katniss' desk, and a slight grimace spread across his lips. He really dislikes that girl. Her and her stupid six inch heels. She comes up from behind Harry, and put a stack of papers down gently on his desk and then handed him a file.

 

"So here are copies of some of our most recent newsletters. It's mostly short features about new business openings and spotlights on interesting citizens in the County." She flipped through the file as she talked. "You'll need to go to all the ribbon cuttings and basically all the events that any of us have going on. The biggest event is in three weeks. The executive manager will be there with the founding managers. And of course if you need company by any chance..."

 

Zayn holds in his gagging reflex.

He could imagine Harry nodding as he looked through the file. "Sounds good," he said.

 

Taylor stood there looking at him probably expecting an invitation or something. Zayn watched the exchange with narrowed exasperated eyes before sighing. He wanted to just escort Taylor out to the next building and _politely_ ask her to fuck off. However, it not being his place to do anything — _sadly_ — he just looks away and pretends not to eavesdropping.

 

“Is there anything else?” Harry asked confused, and Zayn couldn’t contain his snort at Taylor’s shocked expression. Bless Harry’s soul honestly.

 

“Uh, no I just- uhm,” Taylor juts a finger behind her as her face engulfed in flames. Harry watched with raised eyebrows and shrugged after a few seconds of her being gone. Zayn snorts again and smiles stupidly when Harry throws a paper ball over the desk again.

 

* * *

 

**From: Andrew Sconvinski**

**To: Zayn Malik**

**Date: Saturday 17 July, 6:15 am**

 

Dear Zayn, you can come in to work at around noon today. It’s pretty slow in the office at the moment so have fun sleeping in.

—Andrew, Manager

—————————————————————

Zayn looked at the email for a few seconds before groaning and putting his phone back in his pocket. Of course while on his way to work he gets this message. Grumbling something about the messed up _system_ his boss created, Zayn tapped his foot a few times before heading off in the opposite direction. There was no way that he’d be able to sleep now that he’s up, so heading home wasn’t really something he was rushing to do. He walks for about five minutes before stopping when the heavenly smell of fresh coffee and pastries filled his senses.  He turns to look at the shop and see the slight line there and is lured in by the smell of espresso and caffeine. The place was loud with commotion and Zayn was just about to leave the place because of the annoyance, but decided to say cause of the coffee. He got in line and tapped his foot a few times before moving up like everyone else. When he gets to be second in line he sees that barista and nearly collapses. The lady in front of him moves out of the way, and suddenly Zayn was in front. He opened his mouth to say hello, but the word died in his throat as their eyes met. The barista was even more beautiful up close. His hair was being held back by a red white and blue scarf, which shouldn't have been as attractive as Louis found it. His eyes were bright green, with a hint of grey in the middle. His lips were pale pink, and were open slightly, revealing his white teeth. He could even smell him, the soft scent of lavender and some kind of fruit assaulting his nostrils.

“Uhm…” he said quietly, realizing he was staring.

“Hi,” The barista said, smiling at him.

He almost passed out right then and there. He had to physically stop his eyes from rolling back into his head. Even his voice was sexy. Slow and deep and raspy. Zayn didn’t have the time for this so early in the morning. In no world should such an attractive person be allowed to talk to Zayn when he isn’t at full mental capacity. Zayn had the urge to arrest someone for this injustice.

The guy’s name tag read Haz, and Zayn had to narrow his eyes to figure out what kind of name that was. Opting for it being a nickname for something Zayn cleared his throat and looked up at the menu. He knows he probably looks serial killerish, but until he gets some sugar and coffee there’s not much he could do. The guy is still smiling at him, and Zayn stares for a few seconds before basically grumbling out, “Café Misto…with three pumps of caramel, and a cookie...”

“What kind,” Haz says and then Zayn’s aware of the dimple that appears on his left cheek and does all he can not to convulse. The guy is looking at him in that charming way that has Zayn melting in the inside.

“Chocolate.”

“Excellent choice, here’s your number,” Haz holds out a slip of paper and Zayn takes it slowly and blushes at the shock he gets when their fingers brush against one another. He watches as the guy pulls a fresh batch of cookies out of the oven and then makes the coffee in record timing. Zayn leaves that day with a cup of amazing coffee and a warm feeling in his stomach.

* * *

They’ve got terrible, soul consuming, mutual crushes on each other that all of their friends know about, but Harry also has a thing for this guy he’s started calling Bambi _—don’t judge him Bambi is the only thing he has for a name —_  that he sees at the coffee shop on his morning shift sometimes, and he’d like to fuck a smile onto that guy's face.

And Zayn has a crush on the guy with the dimples who chews on his pens while writing down the coffee orders, sometimes he has to run to the bathroom midway through the line to stop thinking about those pens, because he can’t stop picturing those lips around his cock. But those crushes are just physical, nothing more than pure desire.

* * *

Contrary to popular belief, Harry did not have infinite patience.

Sensory panels twitching, he wondered if Sconvinski would mind it if he scared the rest of the interns _—_ _all of the little underlings that have been really testing everyone’s patience recently—_ and his ridiculously desperate _—_ _one of them literally attempted to give Sconvinski his shirt when he spilt a drop of coffee—_ into cowering and hiding together. He surely felt like doing so.

"They're acting like idiots!" He muttered to himself in the privacy of his desk, "I mean, seriously, why can't I just get a minute of  _me_  time that's actually all to myself?! I keep getting interrupted whenever I even attempt to relax; I thought they wanted me to relax and _'calm down'_ with the only thing I have to worry about is editing presentations… They're all stupid idiots." Harry hissed to himself as he spun around in his chair. " _Jesus_ , I really  _am_  stressed out, but is it really my fault your battle computer and graphic center snapped from your overuse and lack of knowhow for the material? It might be, but I certainly don't think so!"

“Dude I think you need to chill.”

Harry hears the voice of Zayn’s and groaned a bit while rubbing his hands down his face. Harry doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, so Zayn filled in the silence for them. Harry doesn’t say it out loud, but just hearing Zayn talk about the broken printer in the break room made him feel better.  

* * *

Harry can’t keep his eyes off of the guy. He has managed to come into the coffee shop almost every day for the past week, always ordering the same coffee with the added caramel syrup. Harry doesn’t even wait for him to say his order anymore; he just automatically grabs the large coffee cup and fills it to the brim, having it ready before Bambi is even done paying. He always gives him the same wolfish smirk, always trying to get more than a sentence out of him. Bambi just grabs the coffee and takes a seat at the small table in the corner, keeping to himself.

What is it about the boy, Harry wonders? He has never been this enraptured with anyone before, and he hasn’t even spoken to the guy! Harry knows it is absurd, that he shouldn’t be this attached to someone whom has never even held a conversation with, but he simply does not care. Something about Bambi is entrancing, spellbinding. Harry can’t read auras, but he guesses that Bambi’s would be either a bright orange or a crystalline blue, like the sun and ocean at sunset. Fiery but also icy, a mix like no other. Either way, Harry can’t help but think Bambi is the most beautiful man he’s ever met.

He’s not going to lie; ever since Bambi has started making the coffee shop part of his daily routine, Harry doesn’t loathe skipping his morning runs in place of coming to work anymore. He gets up in the morning and knows he’s going to see those hazel brown eyes, even if it is from afar. He knows he can go to work and instead of counting down the hours until he gets to leave, he can count down the hours until he sees Bambi.

_I belong with you, you belong with me, in my sweet heart._

Harry hums along to the music as he washes the dirty dishes in the sink, the only one in the store. Anna left early and gave Harry charge of the whole shop, saying that it was closing and no one would be coming in anyway. She isn’t wrong; it’s five minutes to closing and Harry is the only one here. He looks around and in a tiny act of rebellion, puts up the closed sign early. It gives him time alone, and it gives him time to think.

* * *

Zayn has never been a huge pinner, but that all changed when he went to that coffee shop. It isn’t supposed to happen that way, but Zayn can’t keep himself away from that hole-in-the-wall coffee shop since. No, Zayn comes back for the guy, the one with the striking green eyes that stared back at him that one fateful day.

He can’t get him out of his mind, that guy with the long curly hair, brunette hair and the dirty apron he wore as he made Zayn’s coffee. Something draws Zayn to him like a moth to a flame, like lightning to ground. Something about the guy with the beautiful kaleidoscope eyes is compelling, enough that Zayn shows up every day since to _“do work”_ for his newest article the boss wanted him to start, finding any excuse to be near him. Even he admits it’s a bit stalkerish, but Zayn can’t make himself care.

It was raining but that didn’t matter, he wasn’t going far. The coffee shop was at the ground level of the apartment building. Zayn was soaked by the time he got there but his usual table was open. It was too late for the place to be busy and his table was the worst one in the place, right next to the counter, high traffic, never a moment of peace, and with a great view of the hot bakery maker. Rubbing his fingers over the table he was at, Zayn let out a sigh.

There was a partial ring from a different coffee cup marring the surface of the scarred wooden table. There were a lot of things Zayn thought about that table – the stories it could tell, the conversations it had witnessed, the coffee that had been spilled on it. It was the same table he had sat at for weeks. He had done his work on it, drawn up plans for art, doodled absentmindedly, accomplished nothing. It was his table. And if he ever died he wanted to be buried with that table. Not that he planned on dying because he wasn’t sure that whatever afterlife waited for him would include coffee or not, and if there was no coffee he wasn’t going.

_Screen falling off the door, door hanging off the hinges. My feet are still sore, my back is on the fringes._

Zayn bops his head along with the upbeat pop tune, scribbling the lyrics down in the notebook he’s been keeping. It has been a little project of his, writing down the songs that play when he’s at the coffee shop, the music that reminds him of the boy behind the counter.

_What do you know, this house is falling apart. What can I say, this house is falling apart._

Zayn smirks, mouthing the words as he writes them. He knows he should be working, but this is much more entertaining. He looks up at the counter discreetly when he’s done penning the lyrics, thinking he’s getting good at hiding his stares. The girl barista is cheerfully taking someone’s order as he writes shorthand on a pad of paper, calling out to the back room for assistance.

And then there he is, the boy that has been on Zayn’s mind ever since he first lay eyes on him. He rushes out the back with a distressed look on his face, the lines between his eyebrows prominent. Zayn frowns, not liking to see the boy upset like this. He almost goes up and says something, but stops himself. He still hasn’t actually spoken to the barista yet, just watched him from afar and hoping he wouldn’t notice. Zayn hopes one of these days he will get the courage, but not today. The time isn’t right.

Zayn looks away when he realizes the barista caught him staring and turns back to the notebook, writing down more lyrics on the page, hiding the smile that is now on his lips.

_We’ve got no money but we’ve got heart, we’re gonna rattle this ghost town._

* * *

As ridiculous as it sounds, both of them sometimes feels like he’s cheating on the other. Harry with smart and witty Zayn and then with his grumpy Bambi at the coffee shop. Then Zayn with Harry and hot baker boy. What’s more ridiculous is that Zayn has been half in love with Harry since he made a pun about accounting and Harry has been half in love with Zayn since he came in ranting about _asshole friends_ one Monday morning.

Zayn still has no idea that Harry laughs with his whole body and talks with his hands, doesn’t know that he has deep kissable dimples and beautiful kaleidoscope eyes. Harry has no idea how Zayn brow furrows when he’s thinking or how he has an affectionate eye roll that is used when Harry speaks, doesn’t know the bright, almost world stopping smile that tugs at the corners of Zayn's mouth when they speak. It's a real shame, and neither of them know it.

* * *

 

Zayn is stressed beyond stressed. Being on-call is a special kind of hell. It's overly happy and wrongly guided and possibly delusional people who think their work is better than da Vince himself. There are supportive parents of toddlers and college students needing rents money after. It gets to the point where, even when his email isn’t going crazy and vibrating, he imagines it is, and he tries not to hate his boss too much when he salutes him on his way out the door. His way home.

He's slumped against the outer wall of Mr. Andrews' room _—_ who, since being back has crashed twice already tonight _—_ and just lets his breath leave him. It's times like this _—_ and on nights like these _—_ that Zayn wishes more than ever that he had a quiet brain. Somewhere to fold into when the din of everything else threatens to crack his resolve, but Zayn has never been the timid shy type and, in all honesty, he probably wouldn't last two minutes of he didn't have some tangent to latch on to.

There's a warm hand squeezing his shoulder, and when he looks up, he doesn't recognize the guy in the janitor's jumpsuit staring at him intently. He hears the tapping of computer keys stop, and looks at the wall the separates himself from Harry.

"Alright, now," he says, chewing furiously, kneading Zayn’s shoulder like he's in the corner of a ring about to take on Tyson. "I don't want them to gain another yard. You blitz... all... night..."

"Isn't that-" Zayn interjects, but the guy talks over him.

"If they cross the line of scrimmage, I'm gonna take every last one of you out! You make sure they remember, forever, the night they played the Titans!"

The guy raises both fists in the air and walks around the hallway in triumph, jaw still grinding even as he turns back, fixes a glare on Zayn and points, nodding his head.

"How the hell is the speech from  _Remember the Titans_ supposed to help me?" he snaps incredulously, voice sounding as irritable and tired as he feels. "Stick to mopping up puke, dude. I don't need your crappy recycled sports stuff." The guy stops, drops his hands in offense, and just  _stares._  Zayn’s head jerks back as if slapped, eyes widening. "Or... uh... go team?"

The Janitor barks out a harsh, forced laugh, but stops the moment Zayn tries to smile. It's really unnerving. Without another word, he backs up, gesturing to his own eyes with pointer and middle finger, before turning his hand on Zayn, and before he can say anything, he's grabbed his mop and gone. Zayn pronounced his first customer on-call, and he thinks he should feel some sense of relief or triumph when he later finds out that Erikson pronounced three his  _very_   _first_  night, but there isn't any of that. All that time spent learning how to write novels like a professor, and there's precious little to prepare you for when technology fails. The Janitor's speech didn't help at all.

“That was the weirdest thing that has ever happened to me here,” Zayn mumbled and couldn’t help but to smile when a candy was thrown over the desk and landed in front of him. Harry’s been here just as long as him _—their boss switching their hours to later in the day—_ and they both have been working at full drive the whole time. Apparently the boss was opening up interviews today, while also giving opportunities for someone’s work to be featured in the paper. Which meant constant editing any giving his _‘yay’_ or _‘nay’_ for something, and Harry adding everything on an organized form for the boss to look over.

“Are you trying to tell me you didn’t appreciate the speech? That movie is a classic,” HarrHarry says with a grin on his face

“The point of the movie being good has nothing to do with me not appreciating a random as quote from a guy I don’t know.” They playfully bicker about it for a few more minutes, and Zayn blushes more than he cares to admit while Harry has a constant goofy grin on his face. They work and work and work, until it’s time for them to leave. Harry leaves first as always and Zayn waits till his computer shuts down before following suit.

* * *

“Lou, he’s literally the hottest guy I know. Like he’s so hot it burns,” Zayn says into his phone while he swirled around in his chair at home. He was too lazy to go out this morning so instead of going to buy coffee from hottie baker man he decided to stay home and talk to his best friend, who was currently over at his boyfriend’s house.

“And you said _I_ was boy crazy,” Louis says with an amused smirk, “I thought you were crushing on that Harry guy?”

Zayn lets out a groan and spins his chair around in another circle before sighing.  “I _am_ I just…it’s complicated alright.” It really isn’t though, and Zayn knows this. There is actually a solid solution to both of his problems, he’s just too stupid to do anything to fix it. He hears slight commotion in the background and furrow his eyebrows, “Lou?”

“Yeah, sorry mate I got to go. Liam’s being an asshole.” Lou says with one hundred percent playfulness in his voice.

“You’re literally leaving me to be with Liam, Oh God _—_ “

“Dude I want to get laid again and we legit have been talking to each other from ever since we were four,” Louis fires back, although he was amused.

“I’m officially convinced. You took a class in assholism. You studied sociology so you can know exactly how to drive other living creatures _away_ from you. There’s just no other explanation for this shit.”

“Yes, that’s the exact reason I worked hard for an education.” Louis snarks back with a smirk on his voice, and then Zayn hears a noise coming from his best friend that he should never ever hear again.

Zayn could hear a winning protest noise and a deep voice saying a half lazy _‘come on baby’_ before his best friend is saying he’d call back in a bit before hanging up.

Zayn needs better friends.

* * *

Zayn goes to the coffee shop twice the next day.

* * *

So one night, after Liam has heard about how Zayn said the funniest thing for the seventh time, and about how coffee shop guy was extra grumpy this morning and it made him look even cuter, Liam drags Harry to a bar because he can’t handle any more of it. As a best friend he made the executive decision to get his friend laid for the greater good. All of this pinning was just getting sad. The club itself was buzzing. Music was blaring and Harry could feel his fingers vibrating with the intensity of the music. He and Liam started at the bar and Harry bough them their first round of shots. Liam downed two, and Harry took half of one before setting it back down.

*

And on that same night Louis also drags Zayn to the very same bar because there was nothing else for them to do and he doesn’t need to hear about the things dimple guy did with his pen, he really doesn’t. They get to the bar and Zayn isn’t paying attention until Louis says, “Hey Liam, hey Harry!” and Zayn's head snaps up and he grabs Louis’ arm because that’s not Harry, that’s pen guy from the coffee shop. Zayn has a few seconds of outright panic before gripping Louis’ arm and dragging him off to the nearest restroom. And Zayn is bright red because dimples is clearly here to get laid with someone else that isn’t Zayn, and wow that’s just awkward, and he whispers that to Louis.

“Zayn what the hell are you even _—_ “

“He’s here to find some chick with boobs maybe? I don’t know, this is just stupid! I knew I should have said something earlier. Now I just have to sit here and watch hot baker boy take someone else home Louis! And thats so not cool.” Zayn sounds defeated and Louis rolls his eyes at his best friend.

Looking over Zayn’s shoulder to where his boyfriend was at with Harry, Louis could see him in the same position with Harry as well. Sighing exasperated Louis pulls at Zayn's arm to get him to move. He gets Zayn to sit in a bar stool and then starts with introductions. While he’s talking Liam is putting the pieces together because he knows that Zayn is the name of Harry’s office crush and he also knows that this is grumpy coffee shop guy, and oh my _god_ they’re the same person. I took Harry sharing that he works at a publishing firm and bakery, and that Zayn works at the same publishing firm for them both to get it. Liam and Louis share a laugh while Zayn and Harry try to figure out how they’ve been working in the same space for almost two months and they’ve seen each other in different situations, but they never figured out they were the same person. Zayn was suffering from a permanent blush and throwing a slight glare to Louis, while Harry seemed to have a permanent sheepish look on his face.

“Uhm…”

“Well…”

They look at each other for a few minutes before goofy grins spread across both of their faces. It’s probably the most ridiculous thing that has ever happened to either of them. Harry offers one of the shots to Zayn and smiles brightly at him when he does take one. They find their ways to the dance floor a few times, and Harry has to persuade Zayn enough to let him guide him with the music, and Zayn felt the praise wash over him in a warm rush. The hand at Zayn’s waist moved to his hip, and instead of swaying together they were moving in counterpoint.  Harry somehow notched in even nearer, his thigh sliding in close between Zayn’s legs.   The beat of the music was just a backdrop, a thudding rhythm eclipsed by the sound of Harry’s heartbeat, the rustle of his breath next to Zayn’s ear.  Zayn’s head felt dull, foggy with the warm, luscious scent of Harry, even as his body felt energized.  He could feel his cock thickening in his jeans with every pulse of the music. Liam and Louis were far gone from them, probably in the back having sex, but still very much out of their sight and thought for the time being. One two three drinks later they are both sitting on the spiny chairs with laughs and quick talk and whispers. Finally, Harry admits he has a crush on Zayn, and Zayn clearly returns the feelings.

“And you’re always so grumpy in the morning it’s co cute and I look forward to it every day.” Harry says loose from the buzz of the alcohol. His hands are gripped around his cup so that he wouldn’t reach out and touch Zayn’s face or something.

“Well at least you didn’t have to deal with pretty lips and their oral fixation with pens. It was so unbearable Harry, I thought I was going to die,” Zayn says and he knows by morning he’d regret everything he’s saying and add this to his list of times he’s embarrassed himself in front of baker boy, also known as Harry.

“Wanna get outta’ here?” Harry asked after a long minute, and then they were off.

It takes them seven minutes to walk from the bar to Harry’s apartment block. Seven minutes in which they don’t say a word. Seven minutes for the air between them to grow taught with electricity and desire. By the time Harry manages to unlock the door to his blessedly empty apartment, he thinks he might go insane if he doesn’t get his hands on the Zayn. Which of course, leads to him pushing him against the wall next to the door before the door has even shut behind them.

Harry wipes the smirk off of Zayn’s face instantly, crushing their mouths together and setting nerve endings on fire. Zayn mouth his hot and Harry is desperate. He hasn’t felt another body against his like this in a really long time. Hands roam across the planes of his chest and his shirt is being tugged up and is bunched under his arms.

“Fuck,” Zayn gasps. “Get this _off_ ,” he orders, yanking sharply on Harry’s t-shirt. Reluctantly, Harry releases his hold of the man and obliges, shrugging out of his jacket and pulling his top off, throwing the offending garment over his shoulder. “Holy fuck,” Zayn practically moans, running his fingertips over Harry’s abs. “ _Fuck_ ,” he hisses when Harry drops his mouth onto Zayn’s neck and sucks. “I swear to God if you make me come in my pants I will never forgive you,” he somehow manages to articulate.

Harry lets out a dark chuckle, grinding his hips down and freeing a series of curses from the older man’s sinful mouth. “I need y- I need you inside me,” he whines, rocking against Harry.

“So impatient,” Harry chuckles again. “Turn around,” he orders and Zayn almost trips over his own feet in his haste to obey, shucking off his jacket in the process. Harry presses Zayn against the wall, watches as he reaches his hands up to brace himself, tilting his head to the side to allow Harry continued access to his neck. Harry licks and sucks a trail of marks over the gloriously golden skin. Harry almost rips Zayn’s shirt when he yanks it over his head to give him access to his back. His right shoulder blade is marked with complicated tattoo that reaches down in spindles towards his elbow and lower ribs. Harry wants to study ever last line but right now is not the time. Slipping a hand around to Zayn’s front, he undoes his belt, dragging him closer and grinding his dick against the guy’s ass, eliciting moan after moan and a feeble scrabble of his fingers against the wall in search of purchase.

Then his pants and boxers are around his ankles and Harry is on his knees behind him. “This okay?” he whispers huskily, massaging one perfectly round cheek in his right hand. Zayn makes a strangled noise and Harry looks up to see him nodding his head vigorously. Harry wastes no time and dives right in, making Zayn buck his hips and release a string of incoherent words. Flicking his tongue over his rim, Harry runs his fingers around the fluttering hole

“We should uh…” Harry pulls away from his ass, resulting in a forlorn whine from above him, “room? It’ll be more comfortable.”

Zayn shakily steps out of his pants and gives Harry a look that was filled with a much lust, that it’s a miracle Harry hasn’t came yet. Harry licks over his lips and takes in Zayn’s appearance again, but doesn’t have much time to admire as Zayn pulls him to his feet in a kiss. Harry licks and circles his tongue in Zayn’s mouth and seconds later Zayn is jumping up and wrapping his legs around Harry’s waist.

“Lead the way babe.” Zayn says with his fingers laced in Harry’s curls and his lips attached to Harry’s neck. He’s rocking his hips against Harry’s abs for the slight friction it gave, and let out a drawled out moan when Harry quickly moves them to his bed. And then Harry’s fingers are inside of him. He uses a lot of lube, and Harry slides in without a problem. Zayn flops down hard onto the surface of the bed and starts making what could easily be defined as the single most pornographic noises he or anyone else has ever made in their lives. Harry adds up to three fingers making sure Zayn was fully stretched. He starts gentle and after please from Zayn, Harry obliges and changes to not being fucking gentle, not the next thrust or the next, not for even a moment, not by any stretch of the imagination; this is a _fucking_ , plain and simple.

It's all fingers digging into his skin, and his hips slamming up against the bed of the with every hard pound of Harry’s body into his, while Harry fists Zayn’s hair in his fingers and pulls his neck back to expose the length of his throat.

“Like this?” Harry asks, and it sounds more like a demand the way he snarls it right into the shell of Zayn’s ear, teething at the piercings in Zayn’s ear.

Zayn nods up and down mindlessly as much as he can with Harry’s hand in his hair, accompanied by the sound of his pitiful little moans and squeals. This is, without a doubt, the hardest he's ever been fucked in his entire life. This is the hardest anyone's ever been fucked at any point in time ever, period. This is the hardest fucking of all time. This is the Rosetta Stone of fucking, the Stonehenge, the god damn – what's that thing called? With the faces in the rock. Zayn can't be fucking think about, like, school shit right now.

Then Harry slows down the tempo.

It goes on for what feels like hours. Slow, and steady.

Until Harry picks up the pace just enough that he can actually come without it taking five hours, until Zayn shakes his orgasm out hard enough that it's pain and pleasure at the same time, until Harry slides out of him and comes over his lower back and ass, saying another expletive of _fucking hell_ or _Jesus Christ..._ or _god fucking dammit_ – something along those lines. It's all the same. Zayn shivers at the feeling and presses his face against the mattress as he felt Harry getting out of bed. Seconds later he feels him returning and pressing a wet cloth to his back and cleaning him up. Zayn hums content and stretches his limbs out a bit as he looks over his shoulder at Harry.

“Bed…” he says lazily and pats the space next to him.

“Yeah,” Harry replied and throws the towel on the ground. He crawls into bed with Zayn and the looks at each other until Zayn moves closer pressing their lips together again. Harry kisses back slowly and gently in contrast to the way they just had sex. His hand rested on Zayn’s waist and hummed when the man trailed a hand down his chest.

“Fuck me again,” Zayn says with hazy sex blurred eyes.

Harry let out an amused breath and took a few more seconds before complying.

* * *       

Their first time was on a Friday night which leads to a weekend together locked in Harry's apartment, only leaving the bedroom for food and bathroom breaks. They tried every position and every talked about everything that came to mind. It wasn’t awkward and both of them kind of hated themselves for depriving themselves of each other for so long.

Harry talked about his sister and how she’s in New York doing her designing things. He talked about how he’s helping Mrs. Gonzalez take care of the bakery, and eventually she’s passing it down to him. When he was younger his mom had helped her, and now the lady is ninety-five years old and wants to pass it on.

Zayn talked a lot about his sisters and his whole family, loving the way Harry would listen intently to everything he said about them. He talked about Doniya’s little girl Nadia and even shows Harry a few pictures of her on his phone. Which lead them to taking sexy pictures, and then having sex again.

At work on Monday Zayn is late because he had to go from Harry’s apartment to his to get ready, so he skips the coffee shop, but he finds a cup of coffee from his favorite shop on his desk, along with his missing underwear from Friday night, or was it Saturday night? They all sort of ran together in the end.

* * *       

** Epilogue **

“To Fransis!” someone shouts from across the room, and Zayn smiles and raises his champagne along with the crowd around him. It’s the first time he’s been invited to this particular brand of office party. Mostly because he’s Harry’s plus one _— the look on Taylor’s face was fucking priceless when she found out. Zayn had celebrated by kissing Harry breathless in the middle of the office—_. The gathering’s pretty much what he had expected: important people, lots of booze, superficial conversation. They’ve reached the point in the evening where everyone’s mostly just shouting toasts at random, and the head of the PR department has started to dance a little closer to his partner than might be appropriate for a work-related function.

Zayn, meanwhile, has been looking longingly toward the exit for the past hour now. It’s late, and he doesn’t really know enough people to be able to circulate. He doesn’t even know why he agreed to come, exactly, except that when Harry had asked him to come he’d done it with the promise of sex, that familiar closed-mouth smirk lingering around his lips. “ _You should come, Zayn”_ , he’d tossed out _—_ _and Zayn will never, ever tire of hearing his name pronounced in Harry’s slow voice, still gets a flare in the pit of his stomach when he hears Harry say it with that ridiculously sexy morning voice—_ , “ _It’ll be fun babe, I promise”_. And then he’d leaned over Zayn’s new desk, just close enough for Zayn to catch a hint of musky cologne and said, _“Mean we can have a proper dance”._

So. That was pretty much it, in terms of decision making.

Harry still hasn’t come to claim his dance, though; he’s over making conversation with some of their top investors. Zayn doubts Harry would get any time to escape the constant chatter until everyone’s drunk off their ass, and that’s even a maybe. He could just picture himself walking out of here, going to Harry’s place _—with his new key—_. Watch a few episodes of _The West Office_. Eat pizza. Forget about the promise of a dance with Harry, and just wait till his boyfriend gets home so they could have amazing sex. Instead, he’s leaned against a table with a bubbly glass of wine in his hand that resembles the taste of copying paper, so he could be a supportive boyfriend.

Anyway, _that’s_ why Zayn’s still here, because he wants to see Harry engage with all of these people while doing the job he loves. It’s not because of the black clean tux Harry’s wearing, and it’s certainly not because of the way her calves, accentuated by what look like obscenely expensive dress pants, stand out in the light. Or the way her fingers keep delicately stroking the stem of her champagne flute _—_

Sometimes, Zayn really wishes Harry wasn’t as attractive. That way his not safe for work thoughts wouldn’t be a reacquiring thing.

He spots a junior editor heading towards him and ducks behind the snack buffet. He’s grabbing Harry in ten minutes, he decides. It’s late. The dance definitely isn’t happening. If he gets home by one, there’ll still be cookie dough in the fridge.

“Hiding babe?” comes Harry’s voice from directly behind his ear, and Zayn jumps, knocking two plates of sad-looking shrimp cocktails to the floor with a huge clatter.

“Fucking _— Harry_!” He’s flustered now, bent nearly double to try to collect the fallen dishes. “I’m going to put a damn bell around your neck why would you _—_ ”

Harry bends down with a smile on his face and helps his boyfriend clean up. The party is still buzzing and no one seems to even notice them, to wrapped up in themselves and money. Zayn’s fuming and flicks a shrimp at Harry when he makes an awful seafood joke. When they were done Zayn sighed and wiped his hands on his suit jacket.

“Right,” Zayn says, straightening. “Um, I was actually just about to get you. It’s getting late and if I have to listen to another billionaire talk about how much he _struggled_ before hitting upper class status I’m going to jump off the stupid balcony.”

“Don’t you remember what I asked you to do?”

“Well...yes, but I figured _—_ you looked like you’d never stop talking, over there, and _—_ ”

“Zayn.”

“Harry.”

“Dance with me.”

Letting out a long sigh “Okay,” Zayn says, and he’s suddenly being led to the center of the dance floor by his Prince Charming of a boyfriend. Harry’s palm is hot in his. There’s a fluttering in his stomach that is definitely a result of the way Harry gets Zayn to react.

They dance. Harry leads, of course, pulling Zayn’s hand to his shoulder as he slowly maneuvers them in a circle. It’s too much and just enough, Harry’s hand prickling on Zayn’s waist and Zayn’s breath rough against Harry’s neck and their faces inches apart. Zayn forgets how to move for a second, steps on Harry’s foot, and Harry laughs, murmuring, “you’d think gracefulness would come with your particular...skill set.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Zayn says with a smug smirk. Harry’s mouth quirks up at the side and their rhythm’s back at last, and Harry lets him spin once before pulling Zayn back and dipping him low.

Zayn’s breathless when he comes up. He wonders if this is appropriate for a work environment. They are supposed to be working after all. “People are staring,” he whispers.

“Let them,” Harry says, and spins him again.

They stayed at the party all but twenty more minutes. They goofed around at the appetizer table until Zayn was on his fourth dish of fancy ice cream, and Harry made his fifteenth bad joke about nearly every food there. They headed to Harry’s place and Zayn couldn’t have been happier. When they got there Harry was quick to get Zayn in only his boxers and even quicker to trail Zayn’s neck with kisses. Zayn wanted to touch Harry’s skin and explore every inch of him. He began to rock gently against Harry’s thigh; his own erection already tight and wanting. Zayn pulled at Harry’s shirt, pushing it up, and ran his hands over the soft skin.

Harry was only too happy to take Zayn’s lead, slipping a hand down Zayn’s back and caressing the skin of his lower back before slipping his fingers just beneath the waistband. He rocked against Zayn in turn, using his other hand to hike one of Zayn’s legs up around his waist. 

Zayn was already overcome by the sweet surrender of someone strong and sure taking care of him. He loved the feeling of Harry’s elegant, capable hands on him. “Help me take off your clothes…” Zayn said as he struggled with the buttons.

“Of course, babe.” Harry agreed between kisses, before backing away just enough to unbutton his shirt. He worked with quick, efficient motions and before long his jacket and shirt was open completely; he took a moment to undo the cuffs before folding it and setting it aside. Then, he resumed his attention on Zayn’s boxers, kissing his neck in little sucking nibbles as he teased his fingers over the waistband. Zayn drank in the sight of Harry’s toned chest and ran his hands experimentally over Harry’s body, leaning into kiss his neck and down over his chest.

Harry kissed his way down his chest. “Beautiful babe…so gorgeous.” He murmured appreciatively.

“Have you thought about this?” Zayn asked, his voice a bit raspy and low. He wanted to know if Harry had fantasized about this while talking to those rich assholes.

“Far more than I care to admit. I’ve daydreamed of you, craved you.” Harry said, pressing close to nuzzle against Zayn’s neck.

Zayn was thrilled at the thought of Harry dreaming of him. He wasn’t quite sure what had come over him or what it meant, but he knew he was thinking the same about harry and didn’t want this pleasure to end. “I’m deeply…touched.” He nearly choked out the word. “That you would find me so special.” Zayn said playfully with a bright smile across his face as he pressed his hands down Harry’s sides and over his thighs.

“How could I not? You are unlike any other.” Harry insisted, hands wandering to Zayn’s ass and gently massaging it. “I would very much like to taste you, feel the weight and girth of you inside my mouth. Would you like that?” A coy smile teased around his curled lips.

Zayn’s hips jerked forward in response, and he fumbled with his waistband and started pulling his boxers down. “Please…I can’t think of anything I want more.”

Harry laughed quietly and moved them so he was kneeled in between Zayn’s legs, he was very glad that Zayn was enjoying himself. He salivated at the sight of him, hard and aching. Harry licked a wide stripe up the underside of his cock, and then sucked the tip into his mouth with hollowed cheeks. Zayn grabbed one of Harry’s shoulders as he pressed his hips forward eagerly. Harry smiled and accepted Zayn’s direction, taking him deep within his hot, willing mouth and bobbing his head over Zayn’s cock. He moaned happily around his mouthful, both in appreciation and also with the knowledge that the vibrations would feel beyond pleasurable to his boyfriend.

“ _Fuck_ …” Zayn gasped. Zayn thrusted softly into Harry’s mouth; he could tell Harry knew what he was doing and the vibrations from his throat were drawing him closer and closer to the edge.

Harry pulled off just enough to keep the tip of Zayn’s cock in his mouth, and he ran his tongue along Zayn’s slit before swirling his tongue around the head and then sucking him back down again. Ever since they’ve gotten together Harry had always enjoyed this particular activity, and he utilized the knowledge that he had accumulated over the weeks taking Zayn deep within his mouth, and down into his throat as he swallowed around him.

Zayn had received blow jobs before, but nothing that compared to this. “I’m _ohh!_ I’m going…to come...” He warned Harry; it was only polite after all.

Harry locked eyes with Zayn and smiled slightly around his cock, moaning approvingly, and pulled back enough to be able to receive Zayn’s come directly onto his tongue. Zayn grunted and his hips jerked forward as he came, watching in awe as Harry swallowed him. Zayn moaned and breathed erratically as he recovered from the release, his hand resting on Harry’s shoulder still.

Harry let Zayn fall out of his mouth with a pornographic _‘pop’_ sound, before guiding him gently backwards onto the bed, climbing over him sensually and with purpose. Zayn hitched a leg up against Harry’s hip. The weight of Harry on top of him, surrounding him, was both calming and erotic. Zayn ran his hands over the lean muscles of Harry’s back and back down, over his ass and thighs. The feeling of Harry’s hard cock rubbing against his own soft, sensitive cock was an exhilarating, strange sensation. Harry kissed up the column of his neck, leaving sucking bruises in his wake. He couldn't help but nibble on the exposed skin, worrying it between his teeth as he tasted Zayn’s essence. He pulled off, connecting their lips as his hips ground against Zayn’s. He reached a hand down and took them both in his grip, sliding his own rigid cock, which was throbbing hotly against Zayn’s soft length, and pressed them together. The feeling was incredible, and even though Zayn wasn’t completely erect, his cock was valiantly trying to harden again. He moaned softly with each pass of velvet friction. It wasn't enough to get him off, not quite, but it was a sensation unparalleled in its own right. His own cock leaked copiously against Zayn’s, slicking the way for them both.

Zayn’s hand gripped the bed beside him as the pressure mounted. He couldn't believe how hard he was becoming, and so soon after coming. It wouldn’t be long at this rate before he was ready again. His hands roved over Harry’s body, over his chest and sides before resting on his jaw and bringing him in for another long kiss. He felt the expensive whine start to subside a little, but it didn’t dampen his desire. The night was just as overwhelmingly perfect as it always is. Zayn comes hard. Multiple times, and rides Harry until they are both boneless and coming for their last time that night

* * *

Extra:

“Fuck this,” Harry lets the screwdriver drop onto the wooden floor without giving a shit anymore. For hours he’s been trying to put the entertainment center together, but it’s no use. Someone must have messed with the screws or stolen some pieces, because he can’t figure out how they are ever going to fit. They’re all there though. And all the screws look fine. He must be cursed. This thing just won’t come together. It’s starting to get dark outside, not just from the impeding dusk but from the thick gray clouds that hung heavily over the fields surrounding the city all day, and have made their ways onto the London skyline throughout the evening to rain down here just now. A few lonely raindrops run down the clean windows of their living room. The curtains are still missing. So are the rugs. 

They had to cancel their last date to go down and pick some out. Zayn was busy finding a great publisher for his new book. He had said they should just have someone come over to show them samples and someone to put the entertainment unit together, but Harry’s about to turn twenty-seven and he abandoned the attitude that just because you can pay someone to do your stuff means you should actually stop doing it yourself, a long time ago. 

Harry straightens his back _—_ _long overdue since he’s been crouching for hours—_ and intertwines his hands behind his head and neck to give his muscles a chance to relax. He stares at the mess in front of him and sighs. He’s moved a million times in his life. He could write a guidebook on moving. Cheshire to Sheffield. LA to New York. From New York back to LA. From Los Angeles to San Francisco, to LA, to New York City. He recalls a routine whenever life demands of him to pack up and leave. Pair books with pillows or clothes, tape screws to the furniture they belong to before piling them up in the van _—_ _heaviest to lightest—_ , buy only what you can carry yourself, at least in pieces, and clear out every wardrobe and cupboard before packing anything. If it wasn’t touched in a year, it's up for grabs or the trash.  

Moving in with Zayn is the same, right? Another big move. Just with the love of his life. 

“Told you we should have hired someone for it.” Zayn grins as he leans against the door frame. Legs crossed at the ankle. He must have gotten home a few minutes ago, due to the way he’s already dressed in nothing but a pair of boxers and one of Harry’s shirts. A fond, bold smile on the lips and amber eyes one hundred percent focused on the person he’s talking to. Him.

“Shut up,” Harry drops his arms, hands brushing over his jeans before he moves over to give Zayn a quick kiss on the temple. The short, soft hair grazes over his lips. When he first met Harry he had curls down to his earlobes. “How did it go?” he asks, fingertips automatically seeking out Zayn’s waist and moving his hands underneath the shirt. His boyfriend sighed and Harry leaned in to kiss over his stubbly cheeks.

“Another fail, the guy wanted to do so much extra stuff that I didn’t need or want. Even tried to change my vision for the cover.” Zayn says while his hands trailed up Harry’s chest and then around his shoulders to run his fingers though his hair.  “You look like you’ve been busy.” He says with amused eyes taking in the mess of entertainment center sprawled across their floor. Zayn sneaks a finger underneath the hem of Harry’s shirt and runs it over the skin under his navel. He’s smiling ever so slightly but his eyes light up as they dart between Harry’s eyes and lips. “I’m glad we hired someone to set up the bed,” he jokes, but thumbs at the button of Harry’s jeans. 

“Not funny,” Harry pulls himself free from the arm Zayn had slung around him to retrieve the screwdriver from the floor. “I’m going to prove to you that I am capable of putting together a simple cabinet.”

“Oh, come on.” Zayn throws his head back until it gently hits the door frame. “You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

“Yeah, but I want to,” Harry says determined and a bit exhausted if anything. He skims the manual once more. 

“Babe,” Zayn says and gets on the ground with his ridiculous boyfriend. Harry grunts a response and Zayn shakes his head amused as he rests his head on Harry’s shoulder. He looks at the mess and reaches for a piece labeled _‘F’_ that was already connected. He looks at the picture and chuckled, “Babe, F doesn’t go here it goes there.”

Harry looks at the diagram and then the piece again before whining and face palming himself. “Stupid F.”

Zayn snorts and moves to get up, “Come on mister construction man. You can finish the cabinet later. For now, I just want to get your tied ass in bed.” He says while lifting Harry up and dragging _—with much help from Harry—_ his boyfriend to their room. It’s still hard to believe they are here, that their lives have meshed so unaccountably well. Not that it has all been easy. It took what felt like forever at the time to get their own goals in lined with the others. But tucking the last few volumes of _Game of Thrones_ onto the library shelves next to Harry’s tattered copy of _Famous Adventures Through Time_ yesterday, tumbling exhausted into bed together, waking beside Harry this morning, it all feels worth it.

Later, they will throw open the doors of their newly renovated place and welcome their friends and family into their home. There will be much too much food, cheesy music on the Bluetooth Harry insists on playing, and laughter. Liam, Louis, and their newest friend Niall will argue over who is better at Fifa again. Gemma _—Harry’s sister—_ will corner him and bring up no less than three baby names that she would like his opinion on for her son. Doniya _—Zayn’s sister—_ will no doubt bombarded Harry with relationship questions and advice, and then convince Harry to let her into the fancy wine. Both of their parents will be over with Trisha offering a month’s supply of food and both of their fathers offering their help with setting the furniture up.

But for now, they have nowhere to be and Zayn is more than content to drowse in bed with this man whose mere presence is all it takes to ease and relax his mind. Zayn lays Harry back on the bed and crawls on top of him to cuddle against his chest. He feels Harry’s arms circling around him and sighs peacefully as he traces patterns over Harry’s heart.

“I stopped by the bakery today as well. Niall was making brownies for tomorrow,” Zayn says and rolls to the side a bit so he wouldn’t have to look down at Harry. “Guilty as charge, I may have stolen sour of them.”

“Scandalous,” Harry mumbled as he hitches Zayn’s thigh over his waist, just wanting to be closer to him.

“What can I say, he used your recipe. I couldn’t resist,” Zayn mumbled and presses his lips to the corner of Harry’s mouth and then lightly against his jaw. Everything was slow and gentle and in any second he could see Harry drifting the sleep. “…I love you.”

“Mmmm, love you too,” Harry says with a soft lazy grin on his face and his arms circling Zayn even closer. He reached over to turn the light off and gave his boyfriend one more kiss. He sees the way Zayn was smiling softly but still managed to look brighter than the sun, and thought that he could fall asleep like this for the rest of his life.

 

And when Liam is giving his best man’s speech at the wedding years later he has tears rolling down his face as he tells everyone about how Zayn and Harry had crushes on each other in not one, but two separate situations and it took their closest friends getting tired of hearing about it for them to figure out that their mysterious crushes and their office crushes were the same person.

end.


End file.
